The growing international fame of Jonas Kaufmann meant that 2,000 people
packed in to listen to 65 minutes of Schubert

MONTREAL — Had you
predicted a few years ago a crowd of almost 2,000 for 65 minutes of Schubert
lieder I would have assumed the performance featured the composer at the
piano. But this would have been before the German tenor Jonas Kaufmann
evolved from a central-European leading man into an international star, and
before the Maison symphonique provided an acoustically viable setting for
singing on an intimate scale.

The song cycle on offer Sunday was Die
Schöne Müllerin, an irresistibly tuneful, but frequently soft-spoken account
of a young man’s futile pursuit of the Fair Maid of the Mill (to choose one
of the more idiomatic translations). Much of the narrative unfolds in the
mind of the protagonist and it is not always easy to separate fantasy from
reality or even joy from sorrow.

Many suppose such delicate
expression to be antithetical to operatic heave-ho, but Kaufmann seemed
entirely in tune with the idiom. He projected clearly without pushing and
deployed a wide range of colours and rhythmic stresses to convey the
richness of the music and the text.

Of course, he was equal to
toggling an assertive and self-questioning tone in Am Feierabend and
bringing a heroic ring to Mein. Even more impressive were the subtle shifts
that animated quiet numbers like Morgengrüss and Die liebe Farbe. The
apparently free-form Trockne Blumen was underpinned by a steady, intuitive
pulse.

The question was not whether you liked Kaufmann’s voice, but
whether you appreciated his many voices.

One of these had a nasal
quality and might not have been agreeable in a full-blast ballad.

But
for Schubert the palette (particularly after a few minutes of warming up)
was wonderful.

Through most of the cycle Kaufmann held his hands
together in supplication. No shaking fists for him. The huge ovation made
clear that the audience found nothing wanting in his simple, upright stage
manner. Much of that applause was for the pianist, Helmut Deutsch, a
splendidly lucid accompanist, no less apt than his collaborator to adjust
colour in strophic songs for the sake of variety.

The crowd
(combining followers of the OSM and Pro Musica, co-sponsors of the recital)
was not the quietest I have heard, but most of the coughing and fidgeting
was between songs. There was prolonged applause after the decisive final
chord of Mein, which gave Kaufmann an opportunity to take a sip of water.